11

It was a dark chamber.

The room was constructed by stacking massive rocks on all sides. Its area was roughly six square meters, but the surrounding stone walls created an oppressive sense of confinement, and the structure admitted no natural light at all, continuously imposing a subtle psychological strain on anyone who entered.

The floor, made of the same large stones as the walls, was cold to the touch, steadily leeching body heat and stamina from those inside.

A decaying, rickety desk stood within, its legs uneven in length and wobbling at the slightest pressure. The chair was no better.

Though enclosed on all sides by rock, one wall was fitted with a thick iron door. Near its top was a small window, likely meant for peering into the room.

The exact structure was unclear, but it was impossible to see outside through that window from within. It was a merciless opening designed solely for outsiders to observe the room one-sidedly.

The sensation of constantly being watched further cornered the mind.

This place, lined with such wretched rooms, was a detention chamber within the prison facility of the Santia Kingdom.

It stood right beside the royal castle, in the northeastern district of the royal capital, the same area as the Sorcery Academy.

Inside sat a single man, his cheeks hollowed and dark circles heavy beneath his eyes.

His name was Corbelli.

A member of the Next-Era Luminaries who had opposed Ains and been captured.

Until recently, he had been subjected to prolonged interrogation.

The kingdom had questioned him about the internal workings of the Next-Era Luminaries, and the fact that Corbelli had been subjected to some degree of torture when he refused to talk was hardly worth special mention.

Even so, Corbelli did not break, and the kingdom was in the midst of considering its next move.

‘The torture here is soft. The interrogators are just pampered boys who don’t know real torture.’

Thinking that at this rate he could wait indefinitely for comrades to come rescue him, Corbelli remained complacent.

As he quietly waited for that moment, the cold, heavy door opened once again before his eyes.

With a long creak, the door slowly swung open.

Light spilled through the opening, illuminating the cell.

For Corbelli, whose pupils had adjusted to the darkness, the stimulus was too intense.

He reflexively shut his eyes from the glare, yet even so, the voice that spilled from his mouth carried a lingering sense of ease.

“No matter how many times you come, I’ve got nothing to say. More importantly, I’d like some hot soup with meat today. All you serve here are cold scraps—my only pleasure is being taken away.”

Corbelli showed no sign of being worn down.

Ordinarily, such sarcasm would earn him the interrogator’s stock retort of “Silence, great criminal,” but this time was different.

“Oh? Was that meal too luxurious for a pig? You’re still lively, you livestock.”

“……Who’s there?”

The voice that reached Corbelli’s ears was not the usual man’s voice, but a clear yet overbearing woman’s voice.

“Lady Lizelotte, your permitted time inside is very brief. The interrogator will arrive shortly.”

“I know, Mireine. Rest assured—this will be but an instant for you.”

Female voices were exchanged right before Corbelli.

As his vision gradually recovered, Corbelli looked at the woman standing before the closed door.

Dressed in a vivid red gown, her glossy hair flowing long, she was far too out of place in such a gloomy prison.

“So it’s a woman. If torture won’t work, is it seduction next? Endure a little soft torture and you get a reward like this, huh? That’ll make for a nice story to bring back to my comrades.”

As Corbelli ran his mouth, Lizelotte walked up to the desk in front of him.

She lowered herself as if sitting on a chair in empty space.

Corbelli stared, doubting his own eyes.

Lizelotte was indeed sitting—on nothing at all.

“……So you’re a mage.”

Corbelli heightened his guard, but both of his hands were bound with restraints that suppressed the use of magic, a type of magical tool.

If Lizelotte used force, he had no means to resist.

“You refuse to speak, yet you crave information yourself. An untrained pig. Even your squeals are filthy.”

Lizelotte propped her cheek on her hand in that empty space.

“There are two reasons I came to see you. One is to recover the ‘Original Canon’ at your chest.”

Several original pages of the Original Canon hung against Corbelli’s chest.

Without covers and with their contents exposed, they were nothing less than a danger that indiscriminately spread poison. For that reason, no mage of the kingdom had been able to retrieve them from Corbelli, and they had been left as they were.

Though they carried great risk, the restraints prevented Corbelli from using magic.

“You can look at the originals?”

“Easily. Shall I recite them aloud here?”

“……”

At Lizelotte’s utterly casual tone, fear slowly began to take hold within Corbelli.

—Ains.

In the previous battle, Corbelli had experienced a thick, viscous terror from him—so suffocating it nearly robbed him of breath.

Now, Corbelli began to feel that same terror from the woman before him.

“But I will not do so. If I were to weave the contents of the Original Canon into my own words, even a hundred ears would not suffice for you. You are a pig who does not yet speak—but there is something I wish to ask as well.”

“……Hah. You think I’ll answer just because you want to ask something?”

Shaking off the fear that was beginning to dominate him, Corbelli spat back at Lizelotte.

Lizelotte looked at him with annoyance and spoke.

“I know nothing of your will. If you have ears to hear my words and a mouth to speak answers to them, then do so. Even if you insert a few jabs, I am magnanimous enough to ignore them.”

Lizelotte’s response veered entirely away from Corbelli’s challenge.

“……I said I won’t talk. Don’t twist it to suit yourself, damn woman.”

Corbelli glared at her with sharp eyes.

Lizelotte watched him with a sigh.

She pressed her temple with the fan she held.

“It seems you do not understand, livestock.”

At that instant, a searing pain shot through Corbelli’s right hand, which was bound by restraints.

He immediately checked its condition.

“Ugh—ghk!”

His right index finger had completely lost its moisture, shriveled and dried out.

“Your will and thoughts are unnecessary. Speak of what I command you to answer.”

Pointing her fan at Corbelli, Lizelotte continued.

“Where did you obtain those originals? And why are the pages divided?”

Corbelli, faced with this, began to organize his thoughts.